


Embraceable You

by tawg



Series: The Dangers of Dating a High School Principal [5]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Avenger Clint, Clint may be dating a geek, Coffee, Hostage Situation, M/M, Phil just has a lot of feelings about books, Principal Coulson, aggressive cuddling, bookwrym, coulson is a sex bomb, here be dragons, level seven cockblocking, the best laid plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a plan. A flawless plan, involving Phil Coulson and lots of sex. Sadly, Clint isn't the only one with a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embraceable You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikey (mikes_grrl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikes_grrl/gifts).



Clint had a plan for the evening, and that plan was perfect. There would be coffee, then make outs, and then Clint was going to call up every bit of sexual frustration that he had suffered at the hands of Phil’s admirable conversational skills, and he was going to resolve as much of it as he could on as many different surfaces as Phil would consent to. He was willing to allow a few small modifications, such as replacing ‘sex’ with anything from ‘hot and dirty grinding’ to ‘cuddling and watching a movie’. But coffee, at least, would be checked off their relationship ‘to do’ list. With a steely resolve in place and his hair attractively mussed, Clint raised a hand and knocked on the door of Phil’s apartment.

Phil opened the door with the sleeves of a soft, ribbed v-neck shirt pushed up to show his forearms, the neckline of a white tee visible underneath, and bare feet – he was as undressed as Clint had ever seen him. (Clint didn’t count the one time that Phil’s pants had been cut off so the medics could patch him up. As far as Clint was concerned, there was an important difference between ‘undressed’ and ‘stripped down for life-saving services’. Maybe Clint was just a little old fashioned like that.) Phil had attractive feet. Clint had never considered himself to be a foot-fetish-y kind of guy, but he could suddenly see the appeal of sitting on Phil’s legs and sucking on his toes, licking wide stripes along his instep and grinding down against Phil’s thigh. Clint absently sucked on his lower lip.

“You said you were coming for coffee,” Phil said, giving Clint and his leer a skeptical look. 

Clint lifted up the cardboard carrier he had in one hand, containing two take away cups of coffee. His voice was lower than he had intended when he replied, “I got us espresso.”

Without breaking eye contact, Phil took one of the cups of coffee, pulled the lid off, and drank the shot. He returned the empty cup to the little holder, and licked his lips. “Good coffee,” he said, and there was a smile at the corners of his mouth that seemed very promising indeed. Clint swallowed, and tried to step into the apartment. Phil stopped him with a poke to the chest, and popped the lid off Clint’s own cup of coffee. 

Clint growled, but he drank, and grimaced, and then stepped through the door, pressing himself up close to Phil. “It’s horrible coffee,” he replied.

“The delivery boy more than makes up for it,” Phil said, one hand resting against Clint’s side. His palm felt impossibly warm through the worn cotton of Clint’s t-shirt, and Phil’s mouth contained the exact same heat when Clint kissed him. They both tasted sharp and bitter, the oily texture of coffee on their tongues. But Clint was persistent, and Phil was dedicated, and they licked those foreign flavours away as Phil took a step back and Clint tumbled his way into Phil’s apartment. Phil’s balance was off, and Clint held him close under the thin premise of keeping him steady.

“Why aren’t you on crutches?”Clint asked.

“It’s not that bad. I’ve been downgraded to a cane.” Phil tried to distract Clint with more kisses, but Clint was trained in interrogation and would not be deterred so easily.

“Then why aren’t you using your cane?” he asked, steering Phil towards the sofa in the living area.

Phil arched and eyebrow at Clint in response. “Maybe I didn’t want to wear it out before you got here.”

Clint pressed a hand over his heart, and mimed shock and horror. “Why, Principal Coulson,” he gasped. “I’m starting to think you may be secretly perverted.”

“It can’t be much of a secret if you figured it out,” Phil replied, sitting down on the sofa and convincing Clint to do likewise by tangling one hand in the front of Clint’s t-shirt and pulling him down.

“I’d be wounded by that comment, but I’m too busy being curiously aroused.”

“I’ll give you some space to deal with your emotions,” Phil said seriously, moving to get up. Clint shoved him back against the arm of the couch, and when Phil responded with easy amusement Clint shifted to straddle Phil’s thighs, holding him in place. Phil’s expression turned heated, and Clint fixed a polite smile on his face.

“So,” he said casually. “How have you been? Enjoying your time off?”

“It’s less ‘time off’ and more ‘time in a domestic office’,” Phil replied. “But it does have its perks. I spent most of the day reading in bed.”

“Sounds like a nice day,” Clint commented, toying with the fabric of Phil’s shirt. Phil grasped Clint’s hand, running his thumb along the sensitive skin at the inside of Clint’s wrist.

“It’s a nice bed,” he replied evenly. 

Clint nodded, keeping his manner pleasant and free of all innuendo. “I hope to meet it one day.”

Phil used his grip on Clint’s wrist and hip as leverage points and hauled himself into a sitting position, their faces close together. His own voice was equally family friendly, the kind of tone Phil would probably use when asking to borrow a cup of sugar, when he offered, “You can meet it tonight.”

Well. Clint was hardly going to insult his host by refusing an invitation like that.

He pressed his mouth against Phil’s, a kiss that lead to parted lips and tasting tongues, enjoying the way Phil’s hands tightened on him, the sound of Phil’s sharp inhale, the way Phil arched up and gave as good as he got. Clint pressed forwards and Phil eased back, a smooth motion that had him laid back on the couch, had Clint laying on top of him and both of them a mess of groping hands and shifting bodies. Clint slid one thigh between Phil’s, pressed his hardness against Phil’s hip and ground down, making a small, tight noise at the flood of endorphins that came with the promise of relief, surrendered a moan when Phil put a hand on Clint’s ass and pulled him closer, rocked up against the motion and showed that he was every bit as wanting.

Clint shoved a hand under Phil’s shirt, felt the soft cotton of the tee beneath and tugged at it until his hands were against the solid warmth of Phil’s side. Phil followed Clint’s example and pulled Clint’s purple tee out of his jeans (SHIELD training was hard to ignore – even in his civvies Clint felt the need to have easy access to his belt), raked his short fingernails across the small of Clint’s back, dug his fingertips into the muscle by the base of Clint’s spine and devoured the pleased hiss that Clint made in response. Clint ran a hand along the line of a ribcage, the soft muscle of a flank, rocked his hips against the pleasing lines of Phil’s body and traded kisses until they were running out of breath. Clint saw no immediate problem with saying like that forever, with panting and grinding like two teenagers who were finally left unsupervised, want and need coiling in them like muscles at the draw, and Clint would have been perfectly happy if the rest of his life had been that one, sensuous moment. 

They were interrupted by a loud yowl. Phil slowly, regretfully eased away from Clint. “I need to feed Mittens the Second,” he said apologetically. “Unless you want to hear that noise all night?”

“No,” Clint replied, sitting up again. Phil was spread before him, kiss-flushed and entirely edible. It was a good sight. “It’s alright. It’s probably a good thing that I stop humping your leg like a frenzied dog.”

Phil nodded seriously. “I am a cat person. Now shift.”

Clint obligingly flopped to one side and sat sprawled out on the floor. He grinned up at Phil, who took a moment to straighten his clothes before getting up. He was a man who didn’t want to look debauched in front of his cat. Clint found that incredibly adorable.

Once Phil was safely out of sight, Clint dug out his wallet, intending to transfer a condom to the back pocket of his jeans for easy access. There was one small hitch: no condom. Clint riffled through every section, pocket, and hidey-hole, but that damned foil packet was nowhere to be found. Clint thought back and tried to remember the last time he’d had sex. He was sure that he’d restocked the supply, so to speak. Ah, but there had been that time he’d needed to smuggle a roll of film out of a government building, and that time he’d had to swim for several miles with some documents that couldn’t get wet. And he had hazy memories of Natasha getting shot in the thigh, and tying a clean-ish sock on the wound with a banana flavoured condom. Damnit. 

“Hey, Phil?” he called out, standing up and stepping away from the sofa. “I need to hit the store.”

Phil peered around the entrance to the kitchenette, clearly puzzled. “Okay?”

“It’s just, I haven’t eaten,” Clint said hurriedly, and when Phil opened his mouth Clint rushed on with the first half-assed explanation that came to him. “I have a high protein diet. I just need one of those protein drinks. There’s a specific brand and everything. I’m really sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” He gave Phil what he was sure counted as a winning, ‘you can’t stay mad at this face’ smile.

“Have you been called out?” Phil finally asked.

“No. No, not this time. In fact, no one knows that I’m here, so they couldn’t call me if they tried.” That part was true – Clint had gone to great lengths to ensure that no one could tear him away from an evening with Phil. “I left my beeper back at headquarters, so we probably have at least six hours before anyone activates the tracking chip at the back of my neck.”

Phil finally cracked a smile, and walked back into his small living room. “Do you really have a tracking chip?” he asked.

“You know, they made jokes about that during my recruitment, but I’ve never been brave enough to check.” Clint turned towards the door, and was stopped by Phil pulling down the back of his t-shirt and pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the back of Clint’s neck. Phil sucked at the skin just below Clint’s hairline, and then dragged his teeth down the line of Clint’s spine. Clint sucked in a shuddery breath. “Find anything?” he asked.

“Oh, was I meant to be looking for something? Hang on, I can try again.” 

Clint twisted away from Phil, and tried to glare. It wasn’t a particularly successful glare. It was quite weak, by SHIELD standards. “I’m going to get food,” he said firmly. “You can molest me when I get back.”

“Then hurry back,” Phil replied. That was one order Clint was not going to disobey.

Except, as it turned out, that decision was taken completely out of his hands. Because the corner store near Phil’s apartment was being held up just as Clint sauntered through the door. By a dragon. A gold and blue dragon.

“I’m dead,” Clint said to himself. “I died at the museum, and I’m being punished for some horrible thing I did by getting cockblocked in my afterlife for the rest of eternity. This is the only way my life makes sense right now.”

Clint was dragged away from his musings by the feel of warm scales pressing around his arms and torso, the long, snakelike dragon having coiled itself around Clint, embracing him as it had done the store clerk. It then sniffed Clint, and butted its head against his shoulder.

“I think it likes to cuddle,” the clerk explained. “It was playing with my hair earlier.”

“Of course it does,” Clint replied. “Why wouldn’t it want to cuddle us? This is excellent news.” He tried to twist and squirm his way out of the dragon’s grasp, and only would up more tightly entwined. “So,” he said, aiming for a conversational tone, “what brings you to New York?”

“Richesssss,” the dragon hissed. “I am Boryn, wyrm of Svartalfheim-”

“You don’t say?”

“- and I have come to this realm to amasssss my horde.”

Clint blinked. “Horde? Like, zombie horde?”

“Horde as in treasure, you dingbat,” the store clerk hissed.

“Hey, no need to get nasty,” Clint hissed back, peering around the coils of dragon to get a glimpse at the clerk’s name tag. “Devin. Who names their kid ‘Devin’?”

“Shut up.”

Clint returned his attention to the dragon. He was still completely caught up in its coils. “So... how’s the amassing going?”

The dragon shifted a coil, and pointed proudly to the small pile of notes and coins it had been shielding. By Clint’s calculation, there was a whole forty dollars there. “Wow,” he said flatly. “You’re rich.”

“And I shall amasss even more!” the dragon crowed triumphantly, hugging Clint with its small forearms. “Peasantsss shall leave tributes for me! My riches shall grow greatly!”

Devin snorted. “In this neighbourhood? Last year the charity Santa got mugged for all twelve dollars in his pot.”

The dragon narrowed its eyes, and its tail stroked back and forth across Devin’s cheek. “I shall conquer this Sssssanta,” it vowed, “and fold his riches into my own!”

Clint glanced at the clock above the overturned cash register – minutes had ticked by, and the whole expedition to secretly buy condoms was taking a lot longer than he had bargained for. “Okay,” he said. “You want riches, right Broin?”

“ _Boryn_ ,” the dragon corrected. It was sniffing Clint’s hair and absently tugging at one of his ears.

“Whatever. What if I gave you riches? What if I give you all of the riches that I have, and then I get out of here? Because you don’t need me, okay? You just want the richessss.”

Devin gave Clint an incredulous look. “You’re going to leave me here? With this thing?”

Clint did his best to shrug. “I’ve got a date.”

“But maybe I can ssssell you,” the dragon hissed against Clint’s shoulder. “Maybe I shall keep you alwayssss.”

On the bright side, Clint could see cameras and police cars outside the store. Devin had apparently managed to hit the silent alarm before getting aggressively snuggled, so at least the hostage situation wasn’t going to get any worse. However, the dark cloud around that silver lining? Clint could have been having sex. There could have been kissing and nakedness and all kinds of associated wonderful things, but his head had been in the clouds and he hadn’t been exercising proper caution, and as a result he was a hostage. Clint was a hostage, and Phil was probably sitting alone in his apartment, thinking that Clint had ditched him. Something deep inside Clint finally snapped. “Listen here you stinking worm-”

“Wyrm!”

“ _I don’t care!_ Do you have any idea how close I was to sex? Actual sex? With my boyfriend? Who is amazing?”

“I don’t need to hear this,” Devin moaned. “I don’t need to hear about homosexuals penising one another. I already have to deal with that on Glee.”

“I was really, _really_ close!” Clint yelled. Boryn butted its head against Clint’s in a kind of aggressive nuzzle and licked his cheek. With his arms pinned to his sides by the dragon’s tight coils, Clint had to stand there and accept it. He was close to self-destructing from a mix of sexual tension and rage. He was contemplating biting the scaly hide of the dragon in the hopes that he could provoke it into a fast and bloody fight. Clint was eyeing off the smooth stretch of scales, looking for a weak point, when a small ‘click’ caught his attention. 

The door at the back of the store opened, and three heads snapped around to stare at it. Phil carefully stepped over some scattered merchandise, and closed the door behind him. “Excuse me,” he said in a calm, level voice. “I believe something of mine may have been waylaid here, and I’d very much like it back.”

“That’s the boyfriend?” Devin asked.

“Yeah,” Clint was torn between grinning and sighing. “That’s the boyfriend.”

Phil had put on a pair of sensible shoes and a neat, casual jacket. He looked every bit the mild-mannered, innocent, middle-aged citizen. Devin took all of this in, and groaned. “We are so boned... well, not you. Obviously.”

“Just stop talking completely.”

“You assssk favours of me?” the dragon reared up. “I am Boryn! Wyrm of Svartalfheim! I shall horde all of the wealth this petty village has to offer! I shall-”

Phil pulled a hand out of his jacket pocket, and squirted Boryn in the face with the bottle of water. “ _Down_ ,” he instructed.

Boryn paused, sneezed some water out of its nose, and hesitantly lowered its torso until its front legs were back on the ground. It seemed perplexed by this turn of events.

“Now, what were you saying about amassing riches?”

Boryn perked up again. “Yess! I shall-”

Phil brandished the squirt bottle. “Use your inside voice, please.”

Boryn ducked its head a little, and its tail stroked sulkily at Devin’s neck. “I shall amasss richesss,” it explained to Phil, who stared back with a very uninterested gaze. “In a horde. Thisss shall be my cave. And I shall horde richess. All of the riches.”

“You can’t amass all of the riches,” Phil said, not unkindly. “Even if you filled your cave up with money, we’d just make more.”

“You can make more?”

“Yes. And then, because there is more and more money moving in the village – even if a lot of it is kept here – the riches will fall to an event known as ‘inflation’.”

“Inflation?” Boryn blinked at Phil, and made a worried hissing noise.

“If there are only a few of a thing that lots of people want, there is a high demand for it and therefore the value is inflated.” Boryn nodded. “But in this realm, we can make our own currency. So while you might have a lot of something that there is a high demand for, like riches, even more riches can be made and therefore we end up with such a high volume of riches that they essentially become worthless. That’s hyperinflation.” (All Clint took from that lesson was that there was something very attractive about Phil explaining finance.)

Boryn rubbed its jaw against the top of Clint’s head as it mulled this information over, its arms loosely looped around his neck. “Richesss are worthless?”

“Yes,” Phil replied simply. “They can be.”

Boryn glanced down at Clint, and then over at Devin, and then back to Phil. “What about thessse?” it asked, tightening its coils around its hostages, and wrapping both of its arms around Clint’s head. Clint was pretty sure his cheek was getting smooshed against dragon-bosom. Clint revisited his plan of biting the fucker until it let him go. “Thessse are one of a kind, so they must have great worth.”

“There are eight million people in New York,” Phil replied. “And nearly nine million across the river in New Jersey. They may be one of a kind, but no one is irreplaceable.”

Devin leaned his head close to Clint’s. “How romantic,” he whispered.

“How about I tell Boring you’re one of the five food groups?” Clint mumbled back around a face full of scales.

“Yeesh. Touchy.”

“Then what hasss value?” Boryn asked Phil, finally releasing its grip on Clint’s head. “What hasss worth that will never fade?”

“Nothing,” Phil replied. “Well, except...”

Boryn surged forwards and butted its head against Phil’s hip, curling one of its arms around Phil’s thigh. “What? Tell me!”

“Inside voice,” Phil reminded the dragon, before unwinding the arm and then petting the dragon’s head absently. Boryn smiled, and tilted its head to one side until Phil was scratching at a sweet spot. One of its back legs began kicking slightly, and Phil indulged the animal before shifting a hand and stroking along the top of its head. 

“Knowledge has a great value,” he said at last, and Clint had to smile, because that seemed like such an honest answer coming from Phil. “In this realm, people pay money nearly every year of their life to have access to knowledge. Knowledge gives people power, and power has a great deal of value to us. But before power, and before advancement, there is always knowledge.”

Boryn lurched up again in excitement. “Then I shall horde knowledge!” the dragon cried. Then it stopped, and seemed to consider this new goal. “Can knowledge be horded?”

Phil appeared to think it over. “It can be collected,” he said at last. “It can be stored and protected in a physical location. We have big buildings filled with knowledge.”

“Then you will take me to one!” the dragon cried, tightening its coils in excitement. Clint wheezed and Devin let out a breathless yelp of pain.

“Inside voice,” Phil reminded the dragon, and lifted his squirt bottle.

“You shall lead me there immediately,” Boryn said firmly, though it did sink back down so that its head was bobbing around shoulder-height. “The greatest cave of knowledge that you can find!”

“Of course,” Phil replied easily. “If you’re too weak to handle a challenge.”

“Weak?!!” The dragon rose up again and roared, a sound that made the windows rattle. Phil calmly reached up and squirted Boryn in the face, and the dragon recoiled. “I am no weakling! Exssssplain to me this challenge so that I may conquer it.”

“Well, if you go to a big cave of knowledge, one that’s already filled, all of the hard work has already been done for you. You haven’t amassed any of the knowledge yourself, you haven’t caused the riches therein to increase. People will just say, ‘Oh, that Boryn, what a lazy wyrm – sitting on books all day and doing nothing’.” Boryn hissed angrily at the hypothetical slight. “But if you go to a smaller cave, one that already has knowledge but needs more, that needs hording _and_ protecting, then people will see that you have made a difference, that you have made a little cave into a great one.”

Clint gaped at Phil, because surely he couldn’t be plotting what Clint had uneasy suspicion he may be plotting. But Boryn had no reservations about whatever goal Phil was leading the dragon towards. “Yesss, great!”

“And everyone will respect you and your horde of knowledge. People will want to help you make it greater still.”

“The greatest!”

“Exactly.”

“They shall sing songs of my campaign!”

“Probably.”

“They shall tremble in fear of the vast wealth within my cave!”

“Maybe.”

“My horde shall be the symbol of a new era!”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

“Take me, then,” Boryn said, loosening its coils from around Devin and Clint and hugging Phil tightly. “Lead me to a smaller cave that I may conquer and expand!”

“Alright,” Phil replied, somehow easily disengaging himself from that excited embrace. “It’s just a few blocks from here.” And then he beckoned Boryn to the door at the back of the store, opened it, and waved the dragon through. The dragon uncoiled itself from around Devin and Clint with swift, fluid motions, and Phil stroked the dragon along its length as it passed him. Clint swore that the beast rumbled happily in response. “Meet me back at my apartment,” Phil called over his shoulder as he followed the dragon through the door. “And try not to get held up this time.” Clint’s instinct was to stick his tongue out in response, but Phil _had_ just rescued him from a dragon. Phil could have the last word on this one.

Clint and Devin were left alone in the slightly trashed store. Boryn had knocked some bags of chips off the shelves, and one bottle of soda had been broken open. It looked like it could take a whole twenty minutes to clean up. Clint wasn’t used to beings from other realms being so neat and tidy about their schemes on Midgard. He’d have to ask Thor if it was a regional thing.

“My boyfriend just saved the day,” Clint informed the clerk. 

“I’m very grateful,” Devin replied, sorting through the notes and coins scattered across the floor.

“Grateful enough to repay us with condoms?”

“Get out of my store!” Clint scowled. Some people had no sense of gratitude.

Clint was sitting on Phil’s couch when Phil finally returned. “I got sick of waiting in the hallway,” Clint explained. “You have nosy neighbours.” Phil smiled, and seemed to have no objection to Clint breaking into his apartment. Phil really was one in a million. Or one in eight million, because the idea of there being another seven Phil’s wandering around New York was too much to handle. “You took it to your school, didn’t you?”

“We’ve been having problems with students not returning their books,” Phil replied. “And Mister Kushner is set to retire at the end of the year. Boryn is happy to amass all of the knowledge pjr can, in exchange for free run of the library and the right to hunt rats. And at least one hug a day.”

“... _Pejur?_ ” Clint recognised the word as something that Thor might drop into conversation, but he struggled with every word from another realm that he came across. The way Clint saw it, he could already get by in five languages. Someone else at SHIELD could deal with the alien-god pronunciation charts.

Phil nodded. “Boryn’s preferred pronoun. Apparently that’s a little complicated on Svartalfheim. We had a fascinating, if brief, talk about reproductive systems and gender norms.”

“I see.” Clint wanted to ask Phil if he got into a discussion about reproductive systems and gender norms with _every_ being from another realm that he met, but he was honestly a little worried that Phil might have a better action plan for encountering such visitors than SHIELD did. 

“It’s very hard for dragons for Boryn’s classification to become respected enough to be able to acquire a horde,” Phil continued. “Their need to snuggle is seen as a weakness.”

Clint stared at Phil incredulously. “A dragon came to Earth and held up a grocery store because it was discriminated against back home?”

“Boryn’s quite a pioneer in that respect. Pjr’s also the first wyrm to be employed in this realm.” Phil allowed himself a fond smile. “Boryn’s looking forward to telling pjr friends the news.”

“Of course,” Clint replied as he reached out and pulled Phil closer, draping his arms over Phil’s shoulders in a loose embrace. “Employ the dragon. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I can only assume you were distracted,” Phil replied, bumping his nose against Clint’s.

“Hmm,” Clint mused, before closing the distance and kissing Phil softly. “That’s embarrassingly accurate.”

“That’s very flattering,” Phil replied, and he kissed Clint again. It was slow and gentle, but held a simmering heat that Clint felt characterised Phil perfectly. 

Phil was a good kisser, Clint was learning, and Clint liked to think he contributed a little something to the arrangement. Phil bit on Clint’s bottom lip, and Clint gasped, enjoyed that he felt so right gasping into Phil’s mouth like that, and tugged Phil closer. Tugged and tugged until they were stumbling in the direction of what Clint really hoped was a bedroom. There was a bed in it, and a stack of papers on the bedside table. Given their courtship so far, Clint felt that a lack of any monsters or villains lurking inside was the equivalent of the universe giving him a thumbs up.

Phil had his hands in Clint’s hair and his body pressed close, and as they tumbled back onto the bed Clint felt a perfect thrill of happiness, followed closely by a full body shudder as Phil rocked his hips up against Clint’s, as their hardnesses pressed together through layers of fabric. Phil pulled open the draw of his bedside table with one hand and pulled out a box of condoms. Clint froze, and stared at it.

“Something wrong?” Phil asked.

“No. I’m just taking a moment to appreciate that my entire life is one big punch line.” Clint pressed his face against the warm skin of Phil’s neck. “After tonight, I really just need some great sex. Sex without any hostages or enchantments or mutations or bad guys. Sex that is just...” Clint trailed off, embarrassed. He was aware that incoherent rambling wasn’t the sexiest thing to bring into the bedroom.

“Don’t worry,” Phil breathed into Clint’s ear. “It’s going to be perfect.”


End file.
